


moirai (baby it's fate)

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Series: again we wander, we love, we separate again [5]
Category: Smallville
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, I was aiming for under 1k, Lex has feelings, Light Angst, M/M, POV Alternating, oops this got away with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 05:23:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11247180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: Lex visits his mother's grave and revelations are made.





	moirai (baby it's fate)

 

 

 

The stone monuments appear to rise from the ground, proud as ever, to bear the name Luthor.

Lex could find no such glory in the name, slick and engraved in flawless gray scale.  _Luthor_ , it reads. _Lillian_. Implied: beloved mother and devoted wife, taken too soon. 

"Brought you some flowers, mom," he murmured, arranging a spray of red tulips in a vase attached to the stone.

He scanned his surroundings, ensuring he was actually alone before dropping to the ground and criss crossing his legs in front of the grave. Flawlessly manicured grass still held onto cool dew droplets and seeped into his black slacks, leaving damp spots. He plays the part his father expects: ironed and starched button up, $500 pants, leather shoes polished until they shine.

He plays the part, he does. 

Only, sitting next to what's left of his mother's memory, he was eleven again and tear streaked on the inside. _Chin up_ , Lionel had said, _Luthor's do not cry. We persevere. Bury the grief where the world cannot see it, cannot exploit your weakness._

Bury it. 

But, today was the anniversary of her death and fresh as ever. 

Grief overshadowed perfunctory manners, he ripped grass from the earth with his bare hands. Tarnish the facade, he thought. Give her the honor she deserves; not forced perfection. God, he wanted to scream his shame far enough for all of Smallville and Metropolis to hear. See the mighty Luthor fall, taken down by nothing more than memory. Tear open the curtain: he is a small child in an adult's body, ginger hair and hidden from sight under a dark umbrella.

Rain tainted memories, everything drowning in shades of black when she died. Witness the weakest Luthor mourning. 

"I'm doing well," he ensured the stone. 

Luthor definition of well:  _I will not show that I am not._

No, he thought. She survived enough lies at the hands of Lionel Luthor. He is not his father's son, Lex has never been one for dishonesty. 

"Sorry, mom. That was a lie." He uprooted another handful of grass in irritation. "Dad is on me to move back to Metropolis. He offered last month and at least twice this week alone. I refused of course, you wouldn't be proud of my actions there. Besides," he said, mind drifting to a severely damaged Porsche. "I've found a reason to stay in Smallville." 

The wind blew lightly and he closed his eyes. He envisioned Lillian Luthor smiling as he introduced her to the Kents, as he took her on a tour of the town. The residents waved, friendly and open. The Luthor name was softened by her touch and they were respected for the right reasons. She admired the progress he'd made with the plant and his quest to  _not_ become Lionel Luthor and she said -

_She said she was proud of him._

 

 

He pried open his eyes, blinking back tears as the utopian facade faded. Wishful thinking is a road that leads to nowhere. 

 

 

"I have friends here. Friend, moreso. Singular," he said with a watery voice. "His name is Clark Kent and his family owns a farm in Smallville but his dad hates me. I'm sure you know why. As always, everything comes full circle back to dad. I am trying though." 

Another patch of grass but he did not disturb it's resting place. His hand bent the grass under it's weight and he laughed, caught on the verge of relating to it. It was possible that he was losing his mind. He _had_ to get out of Smallville more often. At this rate he'd be baking pies and talking to cows about his troubles within a week. Lionel would hate that. 

"I don't know to do this," he admitted out loud for the first time. "I can negotiate with a boardroom of CEO's and work impossible mergers with no trouble at all but I can't solve this one with money or contracts. I'm out of my element here, mom." 

He cared about the Kent's more than he should, namely Clark and his mother. Mrs. Kent baked homemade pies and the kitchen always smelled of cinnamon. She reined in her husband's prejudice and saw Lex as a  _person._ Clark had no clue how lucky he was to have her. At times, that made Lex bitter but he shook it off. It wasn't Clark's fault that Lionel Luthor was made of ice and continuously knocked his son down a peg every chance he had. 

In a way, Jonathan reminded him of his father. Both stuck in their ways and gifting their sons with deep seated bigotry based on the scars of the past. That's likely why he and Clark's father did not get along. Lex wanted approval and achieving it is was as probable as the sun suddenly becoming obsolete. It wasn't going to happen but he'd look up anyway. He'd prove himself worthy of their son eventually, of them. 

A breeze caressed his skin, warm and comforting like a mother's hug. 

"You're right," he said matter of factly. "I do care about him." 

More than he should. He leaned back on his palms, drifting into the comfort of history and mythology. Books and knowledge were his friends as a child and the only middle ground he and his father agreed upon. 

 _"Moirai._ The thread of fate from life to death. Beginning to end. Fate destroyed Troy and the Greeks feared it. The belief was that if a person died, it meant that the string connecting from their fate to life was shorter and thereby unavoidable. I used to believe we made our own but..."

He thought of a dented guardrail and feeling like he'd been offered a second chance at life. Green eyes and dripping hair, warmth settling in his chilled bones. The unmistakable tug of recognition though, to his knowledge, they'd never met. Soulmates of a sort. 

"What if I'm wrong and it _is_  real? What if we're destined, not to destroy, but to build? Mom, I felt _something_ when he touched me," he smiled shyly, unable to contain himself. "We're meant to share a life, I know it. Clark and I have a future together. I'm alivefor a reason and it's _him_."   

Babbling. He was babbling to his late mother about a boy. 

But who else would listen if not her? He couldn't exactly stroll up to Martha Kent and wax poetic about how he wanted to kiss her son or marvel over how seeing him for the first time turned his world on it's head. Nevermind having that conversation with Jonathan. He'd rather not be on the evening news as the latest homicide victim.  

He ran his fingers over the letters of her name and bowed his head, wishing she were there instead of a slab of stone. Surely she would've doled out useful motherly advice that'd help him bridge the gap from point A to point B. 

"I miss you," he said. 

Just then, his wristwatch beeped. Four fifteen. Clark would be home from school by now. He rearranged the tulips into a more flattering display and stood, dusting off his pants. He'd need to change before he left. 

"Speaking of Clark, I have to go. I'll visit soon." 

On that note, he headed to the castle and from there, the Kent farm. 

* * *

 

 

Clark didn't mean to eavesdrop, honestly. 

He'd checked himself out of school and hour early, sensing that something was off with Lex. It was his tone last night as they spoke on the phone; sad in a way that concerned Clark. He hadn't pried or asked what was wrong but rather, he asked Lex if he was feeling okay. 

 _"I'll be fine, Clark,"_ he'd said and ended the call shortly thereafter. 

Clark did what any good person and best friend would do: he trailed Lex. He should've left when he'd recognized the destination but Lex was so small and vulnerable, bowed in on himself rather than his usual confident stance, that leaving was not an option. He'd hidden, on constant standby in case Lex needed emotional support. He wasn't sure how to explain why he was there or how he'd known but Lex took top priority, before excuses and lies. 

Well, except for the one major deception but that was necessary. 

_"You're right. I do care about him."_

Insight was helpful. Confirmation made his chest swell and heartbeat speed up. Of course he'd had his suspicions and hopes but this was concrete proof. He knew about Lex's insistence on their having a future together but his tone was more raw and sentimental about it today. Also, he'd apparently have to make the first move (God help him) seeing as Lex was unsure of how to go about it.

 By the time he was standing to leave, Clark was already racing home to the barn. 

* * *

 

 

 "Hello Clark," Lex greeted, taking the final step into the barn loft. 

Clark's palms were slick with sweat, he felt dizzy and knew his cheeks must be red. He'd psyched himself up as he waited, counting the minutes until the Porsche drove into their driveway. Standing in front of him with a sideways smile was the source of his anxiety in the flesh. Lex had changed into charcoal slacks and a sweater, looking much younger without his business hours suit jacket and button up uniform. 

Either way, he still blew Clark away. 

"Hey," he replied, waving like an idiot. 

Lex sat on the red sofa, concern on his face. "Are you feeling okay?" 

"Me? I'm- I'm great. Why do you ask?" 

"You're twitchy," Lex replied, analyzing. 

"Too much caffeine." 

Crap. He hadn't even been to the coffeehouse. He was supposedly in school for the entire day. Maybe Lex would buy that he'd dipped into Jonathan's coal black-strong enough to walk on it's own- sludge coffee? 

Not likely. He'd made his distaste known numerous times as they sipped a dark Colombian brew or the coffee of the day at The Torch. 

"At school?"

Clark smiled, shrugging. "Yeah?" 

Lex narrowed his eyes, knowing it was a lie. Clark was horrible at deception. His face gave everything away. 

"I'd suggest opting for decaf next time," he remarked. 

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks." 

Should he do this sitting down? Find a reason for Lex to stand up? Kissing was not his area of expertise. He suspected that'd be Lex's territory especially with those lips and oh God, he was staring. 

Lex smiled. "Sit down. You're making _me_ nervous." 

Obediently, Clark took the middle seat, leg spreading purposely to make contact with Lex's. The close proximity wasn't new seeing as personal space was a non existent concept between them - had been since Lex came to on a riverbank with the imprint of Clark's lips on his - but it felt different. Now that he knew where he stood with his best friend, nothing was stopping him from -

"Clar-"

Bracing a hand on the back of the sofa, he leaned in and brushed his lips over Lex's. It hardly counted as a kiss but there it was again; that electric  _feels like I'm flying_ buzz in his veins that made itself known the first time he rescued Lex. He pulled back and licked his lips, bravely dragging his eyes from Lex's mouth to shocked baby blues. For one heart pounding second, he thought he'd made a mistake but then Lex smiled - really and truly  _smiled._

He brought a hand up to cup the nape of Clark's next, hand hot against bare skin. He pulled their foreheads together, sharing a breath. Fate was coming back to take their first meeting and replicate, repair. 

"I'm not very good at...at kissing," Clark whispered. 

"I'll teach you," Lex replied smoothly, tilting his head to seal their mouths together again. 

And he did, multiple times and in many many ways. The sun set and the moon rose as they came up for air only to drift back into the other. Clark learned the taste of his tongue, the angle of his jaw, the feeling of cradling Lex's head in his palms as he held him close, kissing him tenderly. 

 _You talked to your mom about me,_ Clark thought. _And I am honored._  

 _I'll protect him, Lillian._  

* * *

 

 

The next time Lex visited his mother's grave, he brought Clark.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a scene in s1 where lex visits lillian's grave and brings flowers. the fate part is self explanatory as we all know how lex feels about destiny in regards to clark. god he kills me with how open he is about it ❤ 
> 
> as for the Baby part in the title, it came from a very old comic that had clark saying, "get him luthor, baby!" (while watching a joker vs lex fight) 
> 
> I firmly believe he called clark baby at least once. he likes nicknames after all - Atticus Finch.
> 
> also lex is my baby and he really is the softer part of them and very emotional though he hides it around everyone but clark ❤
> 
> anything past s3 doesn't exist, nope.


End file.
